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Pioneer George Hunt traveled to Lubbock from Kansas

Early settlers of Lubbock County survived hardships and discouragement

There must have been an optimism among the pioneers that couldn’t be extinguished by difficulties.

George Madden Hunt was one whose strength of character was tested by the monumental effort it took to move his family to Lubbock from Kansas at a time when there were few settlers, no towns with a railroad and no fences to mark boundaries across an open prairie.

He left a picturesque description of his family’s trip from Sterling, Kan., that included lighter moments to offset the adverse conditions.

Warren Hunt of Lubbock, though born too late to meet his great-grandfather, said George Hunt was a Quaker and a school teacher. He had also worked as a surveyor.

The 31-day trip to Lubbock County, by horse-pulled wagons, took from Nov. 5 to Dec. 6 in 1884.

Hunt had waited until late in the year to start because he was eager to vote in the general election on Nov. 4.

“I was interested in the election of a lady candidate for County Superintendent, and further, I wanted to cast a vote for John P. St. John, prohibition candidate for president,” he said in a written account of the trip titled “Early Days Upon the Plains of Texas.”

There were 14 who started the trip, including the Hunt family, the Henry Baldwin family, Paul Seely, Celia Corrigon, and a man who was mostly along for the adventure of the trip.

The adventurer, whose name Hunt wasn’t able to recall, had wanted to see Texas, and he also had a good team of horses and a strong wagon.

“I proposed to bear the expense of his trip, if he would go with us and carry some of our goods.”

At first, the deal seemed to be working, but news of the election made it fall apart.

Hunt remembered that James G. Blaine and Grover Cleveland were the main opposing presidential candidates.

“Up to the time we left Sterling, just after noon of the 5th, dispatches had reached us indicating that Blaine was elected; and we learned nothing different until the 5th night out, when we struck camp near Dodge City.’

“While there, a man came along from the city, and talking with him, we learned definitely that Cleveland was elected.”

The man who was going along just to see Texas was so upset by the news, that he refused to go farther.

Hunt and the others couldn’t change his mind. So, they unloaded an organ and other things from the man’s wagon, and somehow added them to the remaining two wagons plus a buggy.

“Our trip, so far had been a very pleasant one,” Hunt said in his memoirs. “We had good camping outfits, and we left home with provisions to last us several days; and for some time, we feasted on fried chicken, cake, pie, preserves and other good things.”

Hunt and the others were frankly afraid to cross the Cimarron River when they came to it, because the owner of a little store had told them the quicksand was hazardous.

He had told them how a man had recently attempted to drive his team and wagon into the water, but unfortunately stopped to let his horses drink, and the rig began sinking. Before they could move out, they sank out of sight. So the advice was, once in the water, don’t stop.

“We felt that the crisis was near at hand, and we drove down to the crossing with much apprehension,” Hunt remembered later.

“Paul Seely was in the lead, and when he drove into the water, his horses being very thirsty, insisted on stopping for a drink; and, in spite of Paul’s yells and the crack of his blakesnake, they hesitated to move on with a speed that accorded with the driver’s idea of safety.

“He believed that we were about to go down, and exclaimed, ‘My God, we’re gone.’”

Hunt admitted that he also felt a peculiar sensation along his spinal column, “from the cerebellum to the lower extremity of the lumbar vertebrae.”

He added, “But good luck smiled upon us, and we all pulled through in safety to the south bank of the river, when rejoicing took the place of fear and trembling.”

They found they weren’t entirely alone on the lonely prairie when they stopped for camp in a pleasant valley with a clear running stream of water.

“We hobbled out the wagon teams, but staked our young buggy horse that we had named Jimmie. When dinner was over we all went down to the creek and rambled along its banks, enjoying the pleasant sunshine.

“Suddenly a crowd of cowboys on horseback, came rushing down the hill south of us, and passed our camp in a dead run. This created a flurry among our horses, and caused Jimmie to run on his rope and break loose. He started in hot pursuit after the riders, and with eager anxiety, we watched our fleeing runaway until he had disappeared over the hill,” Hunt wrote.

The loss was an emotional one for the Hunts.

“Our buggy pony was a regular pet, with an abundance of horse sense. If one should step in front of him and say howdy, he would lift his leg for a shake ... I could not give him up without an effort to get him, so I slapped a blind bridle on one of our wagon horses, and without a saddle, mounted him, and sailed up the road, looking like an awkward back-woodsman with my arms flopping up and down like a churn dasher. Just as I reached the brow of the hill, I saw a man leading a horse, and coming toward me. And when I met him I learned with great satisfaction that he was bringing Jimmie back.

“I cordially thanked him, and expressed my deep appreciation of his kindness. And now my estimation of the cowboy was raised 100 per cent.”

The travelers also were guests of the Quitaque Ranch headquarters for a day. When leaving, they were told that after reaching Blanco Canyon, to go two miles further to reach Hank Smith’s home.

“Thinking we were only a few miles from the place, I, with our three smallest children, and their mother, started on in our buggy soon after dinner, expecting to reach Mr. Smith’s residence before night. But the distance was greater than we reckoned, besides we missed our way, and found out later that we had taken the wrong road,” Hunt remembered.

They took along no provisions, and almost no wraps to insulate them from the cold.

“When we reached the bluffs, daylight was almost gone; but we drove on about a mile, down a winding ravine that led to the main canyon, when we came to a clump of trees where the road suddenly seemed to disappear.”

They were left to wander in darkness, and were unable to find a way out of the canyon.

“We had no matches with which to start a fire to keep us warm. The night was growing cold, and we realized that we were lost in a strange land, and knew not what lay before us.”

Hunt also knew they had to wait through a long night to find their way out. “I discovered an old dug-out, or rather a dug-in, as the room had been made in the side of a bluff. It had an opening in front, about six by six feet. Over this doorway was a big buffalo head, which made the place appear more hideous.

“We knew we would suffer with cold if we should stay outside, so we decided to go into this grim looking den, and take our chances of being punished for trespass.”

Someone had left evidence of a fire in the fireplace, along with a cottonwood log, and when Hunt raked the coals he found some still burning. It gave them a bit of warmth and light.

“We decided that we would move out early in the morning, go back over the road we had come, and meet the rest of our party. We remembered passing a camp in the evening before, where some men were baling hay, only a few miles from the canyon. When we reached a point opposite this place, which was about a quarter of a mile from the road, daylight was beginning to show. The folks were cold, and I left them in the buggy, while I walked down to the camp, to see if I could make arrangements for us to warm ourselves.”

The men not only kindled a fire for them, but made breakfast. The Hunts hadn’t had food since noon the preceding day.

“If there ever was a meal that we enjoyed more than any other, this was the one. We had beef, fried in fresh tallow, good coffee with sugar for it, big fat biscuit, and fried onions. We were now learning to know and appreciate the hospitality of the pioneer.”

In the evening, after they had rejoined the other members of the group, they found a dim wagon trail and began looking for a way down into the nearby canyon.

“It was now very dark, for it was cloudy, and we did not have the benefit of star light. Our party was tired, cold, and hungry. Miss Corrigon was sick, and scarcely able to travel.”

Seely and Hunt took lanterns and searched out a way into the canyon, and then came to a water crossing.

“The first wagon came through with a hard pull, but the second one failed to make the landing.”

It had to be left in the water and mud, which was nearly up to the hubs on the back wheels. But the clouds cleared enough for the moon to shine through.

“At this place the road turned to the left, and led to Mr. Smith’s home, about a quarter of a mile away. The dim outlines of his big stone house appeared through the moonlight.”

Hunt remembered, “Mrs. Smith proceeded at once to prepare supper for us, and we greatly enjoyed it, for the last meal that we had eaten was our notable breakfast with the hay-balers, rather early that morning.”

By the next evening, they were with relatives in Estacado.

Hunt’s story doesn’t end there. He later set up a small grocery store at Estacado, and was appointed Justice of the Peace.

The family moved to the north town of the two towns that became Lubbock in 1891, and Hunt managed the Nicolett Hotel, according to his great-grandson.

Hunt also began attending church services with the initial congregation of First Methodist Church, and eventually taught the Wesley Class, a women’s class at the church.

In the spirit of Lubbock’s early days, he is said to have donated the first $100 to the Baptist church for its original building.

Hunt’s words described his new home:

“There is scarcely a dream of childhood that would seem so unlikely of fulfillment, as one like this, that in after years, when the cares and anxieties of life have multiplied upon us, we would find new friends and pleasant homes in the far-off Southland.”